Confessions of a fashionista: The big reveal! Our anonymous style insider fesses up about her life in the fashion industry

My name is Angela Clarke and I write Confessions of a Fashionista. For the last three and a half years I've divulged gossip, anecdotes and stories from inside the fashion industry. This is my story...

I knew my days in the fashion industry were numbered when I could no longer wear high heels. I'd been in heels since the age of 14, long before I became interested in fashion and all it's glitz - I was short, and I genuinely found them more comfortable.

In my late twenties everything changed, just placing my foot inside a stiletto caused spasms of agony. I assumed it was a short-term problem that would get better with rest. I'd been working in fashion for eight years - my arches were so high you could drive a bus under them - I simply couldn't imagine a life without pumps.

Revealed: Angela Clarke is the lady behind confessions of a fashionista

To begin with it wasn't an issue, I styled-out ballet shoes in the office. But soon people began to comment on my flat footwear at social events. It wasn't their fault, working in fashion conditions you to think (and dress) a certain way. It's part of your job.

By wearing flats I was failing to fulfil my professional obligations. Instead of getting better with rest, my feet were getting worse. Soon my legs were swelling.

Twisted and swollen, I looked like a knock-off Barbie doll your brother had a go at with a lighter.

The doctors were at a loss as to what was wrong with me, I presented arthritic symptoms, but my blood test results came back negative. I was in chronic pain, my walking became very laboured and I kept getting ill. I'd stand at celeb-filled parties, champagne glass in hand, fantasising about hot baths and my pyjamas.

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I felt like I was losing my identity. I was a glamorous fashionista, with a vivid social life and the kind of handbags you see on Net A Porter, how could I be hobbling about like an old lady? My body was rebelling against me working in fashion.

Some other things contributed along the way, and I began to contemplate leaving the career I'd spent my twenties building up. I was head of a department, I had an amazing wardrobe, I owned 219 pairs of shoes, and I was close to many lovely down-to-earth fashionistas and artists. I will always adore fashion, but I knew I had to get out.

I felt like I was losing my identity. I was a glamorous fashionista, with a vivid social life and the kind of handbags you see on Net A Porter, how could I be hobbling about like an old lady?

I started to write. It felt natural. It kept me connected to my past, my present, to who I am. Soon an idea began to take shape. I could write about fashion, not about the latest trends, or what's on the catwalk, but about the industry.

What it's really like working in it: the good, the bad and the Botox. For years I'd entertained my non-fashion friends with stories from this weird and wonderful world: women that sniff cake rather than eat it, dogs that fly business class, model strops and the outrageous demands of popstars.

Why couldn't I entertain others with it?

I didn't come from a fashion background, I didn't study at St Martins, or have famous parents who hung out with models or designers.

I was born in Watford, I went to a state comprehensive, I was a 5'4, size 12, glasses-wearing ordinary girl who ended up working in an extraordinary world. Confessions of a Fashionista, was born.

Read all about it: Angela's novel reveals even more of her secrets

Some of my pieces have been angry at the industry, and the person I became working in it. Some have been sad, as I mourned my past and what I was leaving behind. Some have been contributed by those still working in fashion, keen to get the truth out. Most, I hope, have been funny.

Fashionistas don't have a reputation for being amusing. Outsiders have written all the hilarious portrayals of the industry: Absolutely Fabulous, Ugly Betty, and even The Devil Wears Prada. I wanted to prove that you could work in fashion AND have a sense of humour.

As my body deteriorated further, my words got stronger. I got a book deal and I finally left the industry. Earlier this year I was diagnosed with a rare multi-systemic condition called Ehlers Danlos III.

A small percentage of sufferers end up in wheelchairs. Since then I've been able to get the help and treatment I need and my condition has stabilised.

I'm revealing my identity because I'm proud of what I've achieved: I loved working in fashion, I loved writing the column and I loved writing the book. Working from home allows me to manage my medical condition, and occasionally I'm even able to wear heels again.

I do sometimes have to use a walking stick, but I've bought four: all different colours to coordinate with my wardrobe. You can take the girl out of the fashion industry, but you can't take the fashion industry out of the girl.

Confessions of a Fashionista, by Angela Clarke, is published by Virgin books on 17th January 2013.